Of Hope and Glory
by fuzzydream
Summary: Britain, 1940. A soldier fights for his life in battles. A nurse hopes for peace again. Their lives mingle in the midst of war. What could possibly be the outcome?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** A while ago I was asked to write a World War II setting for A/B, and the little prompt quickly turned into a story. I realize it's different from the usual Alternate stories around here, which makes me a little nervous, so feedback is very much appreciated. This is just a little introduction chapter really, so I hope it'll catch your interest. Kudos for my awesome editor Terrie who edited this when I decided all of sudden I'd post it this weekend. :P Thanks for reading!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Downton Abbey.

* * *

_Chapter One_

_March, 1941_

_London_

The tears stung in the back of Anna's eyes, her cheeks already rosy from crying, but she kept her head high; her heart was still filled with hope, despite the dark thoughts that were running through her mind. She needed to know more, she needed to be certain. She clutched the letter in her hand, wishing she had brought one of his instead, that maybe his letters would comfort her and give her more hope, but of course it wouldn't be like this. She was, before anything, a realistic person, and she'd rather know more about the truth now than later. She couldn't fool herself.

She needed to go to the war office and ask for more details.

The streets were rather empty, which was odd for this time of the day, but Anna didn't really notice it. It was getting dark. Her steps were resolute against the pavement and she sniffed loudly, her eyes turning more determined with each step. It couldn't be over. John wouldn't let it be over like that.

A perpetuating sound echoed in the distance; could be an airplane. Anna was so used to those she didn't pay attention. She chose not to look up to the sky; John had left in an airplane weeks ago, and she was sure that wouldn't be the last time they saw each other. He hadn't promised so, noble as he is, but Anna had let herself believe. They would see each other again and things would be different and they would manage – she knew they would.

Except she wasn't sure if she should believe in that anymore.

The sound was closer, a lot closer. Anna barely had time to register anything. Somebody screamed, or maybe it was herself; she wasn't sure. The letter was still safely held in her hand. She missed her step as she looked up. An airplane, indeed. Not one of their airplanes. The explosion happened not far from where she had been standing, but there was another sound, much more terrifying… and she was unprotected.

She lost conscience before anything could be done.

* * *

_August, 1940_

_Egypt_

The first thing John felt when he woke up was the heat. His forehead was damp with sweat and his mouth felt dry. He opened his eyes slowly. He would be leaving for London in a few days, but the uncertainty of it still kept him from believing blindly that soon he would be home and seeing his mother again. He might be in the North African desert for months and holding up all right so far, but that did not mean things were certain.

They never were, in war.

Running his fingers through his hair, John started dressing; his quarters were hardly great, but they were comfortable enough. A single hard bed in the corner, a large desk, currently filled with papers and plans he wasn't sure they could handle, along with a lone photograph. Books around every corner; this was the place he had been calling home for the past few months. He didn't let himself think of the comfort he'd find at home. That would be too wishful thinking.

He still had a big battle ahead.

He glanced at his watch before opening the door, welcoming the less cramped air from outside. Putting on his cap on, he nodded to a few officials as he passed by them in the narrow hallway. The sun was shining bright outside and he tried to remember the last time he saw such a pretty day in London. He hoped he would be able to see it soon.

He was up earlier than the others, as usual, and a familiar face emerged from what they called an officer these days. He smiled back at Robert, glad to see his friend again.

"Major-general," John said with a smirk, "what brings you here?"

"Colonel. I hear you're off to London in a few days," Robert shook his hand appreciatively as John stood beside him, watching the soldiers run by. "About time."

John smiled weakly. "Better late than never."

Robert shook his head. "Anyone waiting for you back home?"

"My mother," John chuckled.

"Well, you're on leave for a couple of days," his friend said, "Maybe you'll get yourself a proper girl this time. I know I miss mine. All four of them."

John smiled sadly at his friend, patting his shoulder. "When will you go home?"

"Soon, I should hope," Robert replied, then turned serious. "How's the regiment going?"

"Ready to face some Italians," he took a deep breath. "What could go wrong, eh?"

"Nothing, of course," Robert said confidently. "Come on, let's see how this will work."

* * *

_Same day_

_The London Hospital_

Anna balanced two trays in her arms as she walked down the corridor of the hospital. New officers had arrived with injuries the day before and it was slightly busier than usual, even though Anna's day was pretty ordinary so far. She kept her distance as two officers and two nurses passed by her, giggling rather loudly. Some women couldn't control themselves in front of uniforms. She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes and the momentary distraction nearly had her bumping into someone emerging from one of the rooms.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Anna," the voice was familiar and held a kind tone, the strong Irish accent making itself known. "I didn't see you there."

"Oh, Mrs Bates, I was rather distracted myself," Anna said softly. She eyed the rather big bag the older woman carried. "I didn't know you would be here so soon. You do know you're allowed to rest, don't you?"

Her tone was teasing, but she meant it; Mrs Margaret Bates had been volunteering at the hospital for a few months now, and she was very keen on helping. Through the months Anna had developed a friendship with the older lady, and it sometimes concerned her that maybe the woman was too worried and lonely at her own place and took the hospital as her solace. She knew she had a son in the war, though Anna didn't know much further than that. Mrs Bates was, however, a great help and very friendly. The patients seemed to like her and Anna was happy to treat her as her equal in the hospital.

"Margaret, please, dear," Margaret said with a soft smile, "And I know, but I've decided to bring some books to distract the patients. I'm sure I have a few that John wouldn't mind. We've had quite a few warnings too so I thought it would be best to come in the morning."

Anna pursed her lips. "I know what you mean. I'll be glad to help you once I take these to the kitchen."

"I see many new patients," Margaret commented. "Are you sure none of them has caught your eye?"

It was a recurring topic of conversation between them, and Anna let out a laugh before shaking her head. The work as a nurse in an active London at war was quite enough to keep Anna focused on her career; being a chief resident nurse as young as she was was also more than enough to keep her mind filled throughout the days. To be smitten with an officers was the last thing on her mind; all in all, she wished for the end of the war every day, thinking of all the lives of men – and women – she knew that were at risk out there. Only two days ago, William had sent her a perilously short letter about how he was doing. But he was alive; that was all that mattered.

"I'm quite sure," she replied and chose to change subject, "We're expecting more of them from the Red Cross tomorrow. Do come prepared."

"I will," Margaret said with determination. "John is coming home next week, though. Of course that won't drive me away, but…"

"Oh, but that's wonderful," Anna said brightly, happy for the older woman. "Do take some time to spend with your son. I know how much you miss him."

The older woman smiled a bit sadly. "I do, indeed. But it won't stop me from working here. I'm sure John won't mind. He'll probably visit us here."

Anna arched her eyebrows and smiled. "Then I should love to meet him one day."

Agreeing to talk later, they parted ways, and Anna found herself smiling at her friend's news. A soldier home meant a happy mother, and not everything was lost yet. Margaret did mention her son quite a lot, and Anna would admit she was curious to meet him. Maybe she could even have some news about someone she knew. At any rate, a healthy soldier would probably be a bit of a change for her.

She shall like to meet this John Bates, indeed.

* * *

**Author's note**

A few explanations:

As a Guest reviewer pointed out, I unfortunately forgot to mention here that I don't know much about army - I did some research, but I know nothing of my own country's army, let alone the British one. Obviously my researches didn't help matters, but I did notice several Colonels in World War II in their forties, which is Bates' age in this story - as for him being Robert's batman, he is not. They're just army friends, Robert is John's superior in the Armoured Division. He's a Major-general, as he's older than John and commands the Division. Unlike canon, Bates here makes a career in the army, and what I needed was to make him in a position right for his age and to still fight. This is not meant to be canon at all. This is an alternate version of Anna and Bates set in World War II. They don't work in Downton Abbey, John is not Robert's batman, as Anna is not Mary's lady's maid.

As for the Italians being a big threat, I am aware of that. My intention was for Bates' and Robert's tone in conversation to be alarming, unconvincing. I may not know much about army ranking (I come from a country that hasn't been in any wars since the 19th century) but I do love history and I do know a thing or two about World War II. That's the reason why he's so hesitant upon thinking of his leave. I'm trying as much as I can to keep them in character, and this is a new territory for me as I've never written anything of the sorts.

I point out that this is fanfiction. I'm sure that if we look around we see many unbelievable storylines, and Fellowes himself didn't seem that accurate about the World War I.

I'm sure anyone will be able to find flaws in the story, and as much as I try to make it historically accurate I don't know enough to make it perfect. It's just fanfiction, and what I'm always concerned about is to make John and Anna as much in character as possible. I did research for days before posting this, but there's only so much one can do. I just want readers to see Anna and John here.

I'm just an amateur, as everyone else is here, not a professional writer, and I do not have a consultant about history to help me out. I hope whatever inaccuracy here does not stop anyone from enjoying the story. Thank you.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thanks so much for all the encouragement after the first chapter! I hope you'll like this one. As always huge thanks to my editor Terrie who has a lot of patience while reviewing everything for me. :) Reviews are always very much appreciated! I state again that this is only a fan fiction and I'm trying as much as I can to stay in character and keep it as accurate as possible. Your feedback in the last chapter has helped me a lot. Thanks for reading!

* * *

_Chapter Two_

"Drink it up," Anna said sternly, "You'll want to get better soon."

William made a face at the small cup Anna offered him, but took it nonetheless. His face was covered in healing bruises and he had a broken wrist – nothing, unfortunately, that would keep from going back to fight. She knew the young man from another time and place: their home county, their childhood. In many ways, she saw William as a younger brother and even when they parted ways, many years ago, when she left for nurse training, they continued to correspond. It still pained her to see him in such a state; having arrived in London only a couple of weeks ago, William had undergone surgery and was still recovering. Anna, however selfish that might seem, had been hopeful that this would keep him from going back to war, but this wasn't the case. As soon as he felt better he would return, and William was much too eager for that.

"Did you hear, Anna?" he started excitedly, after drinking the medicine. "I'm leaving tomorrow."

"I did hear it," Anna said. "Are you going back to Yorkshire for a while, then?"

William nodded. "I need to report back in a week to see if I'm able, though."

"So you have a week to rest and enjoy your parents," she said with a tight smile. "I just saw your father leaving."

"You could come with us," William offered. "I'm sure everyone would be happy to see you."

"As long as I'm needed here, I won't be going," Anna said apologetically. "Some other time."

"You'll always be needed here, Anna," the young man said, and Anna nodded her head.

"That's the point, William."

"Or maybe you've got yourself a gentleman and can't bear to be away?" William said teasingly, but Anna shook her head and chose to ignore his question.

"What is it with people and love and war?" Anna rolled her eyes good naturedly. "I'll see you soon. Behave," she said, shaking the small cup again and William groaned. She bit down a chuckle as she left the ward.

* * *

John looked out the window; it was a rather cloudy day and it looked like it would rain. He was grateful for it. His arm itched and he sighed exasperatedly, looking down to see the firm cast that had been immobilizing his arm for a few days now. He had been lucky, he had, having come out of battle with some bruises and a badly broken arm; it was nothing that couldn't be fixed in a few weeks. He blinked away the memories of the last battle and the possibilities of how worse it could have been for him. Despite the days planning and working on strategies, it hadn't been enough; there had been too many losses in his division and he supposed he had no reason to be anything other than relieved to have the opportunity to be back at England, safe and sound.

He was, indeed, very glad to be home – even if his leave had been delayed and his injury had forced him to extend the visit. Still, he was eager to return to the field, and worried about being away from his division for too long, but he would be back soon enough. A broken arm wouldn't keep him out of the war, and although some memories of that last battle would haunt him there were good memories too - the bonds made in battle were by far the strongest he had formed in his life, from all his experience of being in the army for over twenty years now.

It wasn't as if the war would be over soon anyway.

The clattering of china warned him of his mother's presence and he turned, smiling at her as she entered the parlour with tea. Bless his mother; as soon as he caught a glimpse of her she had that worried look all over her face, and yet her only question had been about his well-being – and he knew she meant more than physically. His answer had seemed enough for her and she hadn't dared to ask any more questions, but she still had a worried look on her face, aware that he had had better days but he supposed his mother had seen him worse than now.

"You have yet to answer how you are, you know," Margaret Bates said knowingly, and John managed a smile.

"Glad to be here," he said softly, making his way to the small tea table and sitting across from his mother. He prepared his tea carefully, slower than usual with only one arm. He could still feel his mother's eyes on him and he looked up to meet her gaze. "So what is the news?"

His mother shrugged. "Well, you know your cousin Kathleen was in London and spent a few days here. The family sends well wishes. I'm afraid the girl is a bit too flighty but her heart is in the right place."

"She's young, Mother," John let out a chuckle. "You can't blame her."

"Twenty-nine isn't _that _young, John. I know many women younger than that with a better head on their shoulders," his mother argued back. "A good girl, all in all. Good company. I won't rest until this war is over and you are home for good. This house is way too big for just one person."

John avoided her gaze and took a sip of his tea. As glad as he was to be in London, it was quite difficult to imagine life after war; he wasn't yet ready to indulge himself in such imprecise dreams. He looked up and smiled, deciding a change of subject was needed.

"How is the work in the hospital?"

"Oh, it's going well. They need all the help they can get, and I'm happy to be there," his mother said with a smile. "There are too many people coming in and very few leaving. When they are not soldiers with battle wounds, people are suffering from tuberculosis. It can be quite chaotic, but I like to of help."

As blessed as he was – and knew it – he knew her main reason for helping in the hospital, and he was quite sure that if anything were to happen to him she would keep doing so. While he had been uncertain at first, she seemed quite happy in her letters and she had made friends in the hospital, that made him very thankful. He would hate to think of his mother lonely, worrying about him, when she had her life to live. She was certainly a trooper, and stronger than many, many men he knew. His smile reached his eyes for the first time that day.

"Do take care of yourself," John said quietly. "I don't wish to see you ill."

His mother smiled and reached to stroke his hand softly. "I do take care, my boy. As I hope you do too."

His smile turned a bit bitter but he did not let it go away. "As much as I can."

They exchanged a meaningful look and his mother gave his hand one more squeeze before letting go.

"You should go to the hospital, if you find the time," she suggested. "I'm sure you'll find/see some old faces there."

John sat back in his chair, more relaxed than before. "I might go tomorrow, if you're there. I have a meeting at the war office but I would like to see how the soldiers are doing."

"I know it's not exactly the normality you were looking for."

John pursed his lips. "I'm quite sure normality is hard to find nowadays."

* * *

Anna looked at the unending list in front of her, furrowing her forehead slightly; so many things to be done and yet they had so few people to help. It was getting nearly impossible for her to maintain nurses in just one wing, herself included – they had volunteers and new nurses every now and then but they still needed more. She had come to London a couple of years ago, just as the war had started, with the intent to help – there was nothing for her in Yorkshire and when the opportunity showed up she took it. As it was, however, it didn't take long for a promotion to happen, and Anna liked to think it didn't happen solely for the lack of nurses.

The main problem, however, was that besides the large part of the population who required medical assistance, the war had left them in an imminent state of chaos, and Anna could see it happening very, very soon. Too many soldiers came from the continent and Africa in need of surgery and proper treatment they couldn't find in the army camps; too many people in London were suffering from tuberculosis and needed a bed – a bed they couldn't offer at the moment.

She was the nurse in charge of the hospital's West Wing, which dealt mostly with trauma injuries, meaning they had many officers and soldiers brought in. The officers attracted the attention of many nurses, but Anna never did mind them; most of them were far too cheeky or just too quiet. She couldn't blame them. She could only imagine the horrors they had seen in battles and the memories they carried with them. Still, they offered more misery than happiness to a young woman, in Anna's point of view. What woman could expect hopeful prospects from a soldier in the midst of war?

"Lily, I need you to look after Sergeant Seymour until we get him for surgery in a bit," Anna said, balancing the many patients' charts in her hands. "You might need to give him more morphine. He was in a pretty bad shape this morning."

The young nurse nodded and walked away to the other end of the room. Anna stopped by one more bed and made a few notes before placing the chart on the end of it. This one was no more than a boy really; she didn't think he could be more than nineteen years old, even though both his eyes and ears were bandaged. She imagined he would be a handsome boy.

Her breath caught in her throat and Anna blinked, looking around to be sure no one caught her moment; pursing her lips in a thin line, she watched the big room carefully. There weren't many people around. She met William's eye and smiled a little tearfully, though he couldn't see it from the distance. There was a man talking to him. He turned away from Anna's gaze and said something to the man, who had his back to Anna_. _She frowned. William would be released today and she had expected his father to be visiting, but the man was much taller and wore an officer's uniform – if her experience had taught her something, he was more than a soldier. William laughed. Anna smiled. It was nice to see him in a good mood, especially remembering the state in which he had arrived, weeks ago.

Anna blinked again and went back to work, swiftly writing notes about every patient and putting the charts back in their place. She was still doing her best to be organized. Captain Culpepper said a few cheeky words Anna paid no attention to. A young man recently brought in complained about leg pain. It was just another day at work and so far it hadn't been a bad one. She chanced one look at William again; she hoped she could steal a moment to talk to him before he left. Wish the boy good luck.

The man was still there, talking to him. He was sitting on a chair now. She noticed his arm was in a cast and he seemed to have a few bruises on his face; Anna frowned. She didn't remember this man, so he probably hadn't been around the hospital. He had handsome features, however, she noticed, despite the bruises; a soft smile played on his mouth as he spoke. He was describing something to William. His hand moved as he spoke. The dark hair had been carefully arranged, she supposed, with some difficulty using just one hand. She was sure she would have remembered him if he had been one of their patients. Still… he was vaguely familiar.

In the course of a second, maybe two, their eyes met, and she blushed slightly, but he was quicker to look away than she was, talking to William again, saying something to the man in the next bed as well. She let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding and looked down at the chart, though her eyes only lingered there for a second before looking up again. He was still deep in conversation. No… he couldn't have been a patient.

"Ah, there he is," a voice behind her said, and Anna jumped slightly. She was still two beds from William's. She turned her head around and saw Margaret Bates beside her. Anna smiled. "I wondered where he had gone."

Anna frowned. "What?"

"That's my son," Margaret nodded, looking at the officer talking to William. Anna felt her cheeks colour a bit. "John."

"Oh," Anna let out, surprised. "I didn't know."

She followed Margaret's gaze; the man was standing up. He talked to William and the other soldier. He seemed to have a way of talking to them; his eyes crinkled slightly as he turned and walked towards them. John Bates was indeed a very handsome man; he wore a serious expression on his face now, though Anna could see his features were soft and pleasant. He smiled at his mother and chanced a look at Anna again. She offered him a small smile.

"Hello, Mother," he said quietly, almost too quiet.

"John, this is Anna Smith, the nurse I've told you about," Margaret said promptly.

Anna nodded in his direction as he extended his right hand to her; she took the charts from her right hand and balanced them with the other as their hands met; his shake was firm and careful. She noticed he had quite remarkable eyes.

"How do you do, Nurse Smith?" his voice was still quiet. "I must thank you for keeping my mother busy."

"I must be the one to thank her instead," Anna said, eyeing Margaret, who seemed quite content to watch them. "Welcome back to London."

He nodded in silent thanks, and Margaret smiled.

"Anna, I know you aren't supposed to be working now," she said slowly, her eyes twinkling. "Perhaps you could join us for lunch?"

Anna shook her head and smiled politely. "Oh, thank you, Margaret, but I still must work. We are doing a surgery soon and I must assist. But thank you."

"You work much too hard, dear," the older woman said, touching Anna's cheek softly before turning to her son. "Shall we go?"

"We shall," John Bates answered. "Good day, Nurse Smith."

Anna smiled in response and they parted in opposite directions. A moment later, as Anna reached William's bed, she chanced a look to the door and caught John Bates' gaze on her just as he accompanied his mother out of the room. Suddenly feeling a bit more at ease, Anna smiled at William.

"So, excited to leave me here today?" she asked.

William nodded. "I wish I could say no."

Anna grinned. "No, you don't," he answered her with a grin of his own. Anna read his chart quickly. "You really are ready to go. As soon as your father gets here the doctor will approve your leave."

"It can't come soon enough," William said in an excited tone. "That was Colonel Bates. He commands my division."

"Did he have news from the front?" Anna asked teasingly. William was serious.

"A bit. He just returned from a battle," he told her. "He's a good man. Good leader."

"I'm sure he is," she said with a smile. "I best get back to work. I'll try to stop by when your father is here. If I don't, give him a big hug for me."

"Don't worry, I will," William nodded.

Anna turned to walk away before chancing another look at the door. Indeed, no officer or soldier ever caught her attention – which was why she found it so odd that she kept expecting to see John Bates every time someone walked in. She took a deep breath before continuing with her work. An officer couldn't offer many prospects and she was quite content in not looking forward to them.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Took a long time but here it is! Since Downton is starting soon and I've got another fic to work on this one will be on hiatus for a little bit. Not much, just a couple of weeks so I can sort myself out. Hopefully this chapter will serve to make you want more soon. Who knows, maybe with some feedback I might write chapter four sooner than you think... :P

Thanks for reading!

* * *

_Chapter Three_

John descended the steps slowly, looking back to the entrance of the hospital and sighing, a bit unsure of what to do next. There was no point in lying; he was quite bored with life in London, even if he had only been home for a total of five days now. His arm twitched and he looked at it with mild annoyance – he would be back on the field, in Egypt, if it wasn't for his arm. Currently, there was only so much he could do besides waiting for a few weeks until he would surely be cleared to go. Of course, as Robert had said, his leave came at a good time. He couldn't deny that he felt rather relieved to be in London again, away from the high temperatures and the uncertainty of the next day. But knowing this was still out there – and his men were too – didn't make things easy. He was eager to be back, eager to do his job.

But since he was unable to do it in the present moment, he had little to do with his free time. His habits hadn't changed in London and he was up very early every morning. By the time noon came, however, he found that he didn't have much else to do at all. Apart from a few meetings at the war office, he had spent most of his time reading – newspapers or books or anything, really. Somehow, he now stood in front of the London Hospital – he had hoped he would find his mother and they maybe could enjoy luncheon somewhere else today. He had had no such luck; a brunette nurse he thought he had seen before had told him his mother came by earlier but left over an hour ago.

He had to admire his mom's ability of keeping busy; he supposed it first came from his father's death, so long ago, and him leaving for the army at a young age. He should learn from her; perhaps he could weed the garden or something of sorts. He had always enjoyed working outside. He had been in the army for the most part of his life, but still sometimes he thought of how different things could be. Looking back at his past and his many mistakes, he was sure that he should be glad to be where he was right now. He didn't have many friends nowadays – and most of them were in the army as well, at the moment.

He made up his mind quickly; he would stop by somewhere quiet, have something to eat, and go back home. Surely he could find something to do there. Or perhaps he could just read some more.

The streets were busy, as always, with people coming and going, but his knowledge of the neighbourhood took him to a quieter, much more deserted street not very far from the hospital. He found himself entering a small tea shop, which was luckily not very crowded. He chose a table by the window and ignored the many talks of war; as involved as he was, sometimes it was good to shut down and try to momentarily forget about, even if it was nearly impossible to do so.

He took the small book from his coat pocket after he ordered a tea, and soon was lost in Robert Burns' words. Every so often he would look outside or around the shop – it was getting more crowded by the minute; he heard the door open and looked up as a petite blonde woman walked in. He immediately recognised her from the hospital – Nurse Anna Smith, his mother had told him. It was somewhat different to see her out of her uniform, in a blue floral dress that, he couldn't help but notice, fit her silhouette rather well. Their eyes met almost immediately – almost like they had the first time he saw her a few days ago. They had talked briefly during his visits to the hospital, and she had been nothing but friendly. The ghost of a smile crossed her face as she walked towards his table. Her steps were confident and he noticed she was also carrying a book with her. He was curious.

"Colonel Bates," her voice was smooth, and he found himself smiling softly.

"Good afternoon, Nurse Smith," John replied, and with a small smile he saw her taking a deep breath and choosing the table right next to his, as there weren't many options.

He found it rather uneasy to not say anything else, even though he usually preferred silence in these situations. The young woman, however, seemed quite unaffected by it all; her hair was very different without her cap and she was wearing more make-up now than she did at the hospital. He couldn't deny that she had attracted his interest when he first saw her – he couldn't help but admire the resolution with which she did her job. At home, his mother had been quick to praise her – she was the nurse in charge, he found out, and apparently his mother's favourite.

John returned his attention to the poem he had been reading before; one of his favourites from Burns. Yet, in the back of his mind, he paid more attention to the tea Miss Smith ordered and out of the corner of his eye he saw her opening the book she had brought. He started the poem again, even though he almost knew it word by word; _Why should we idly waste our prime¹_…

He had always thought it was rather depressing poem, when he thought about it. A man noticing his mortality; a resigned man. Was it what it really was, in the end? He wasn't resigned yet, even though he was very much aware of the uncertainty every day brought him. Perhaps he was, indeed, a fool, for believing that the war would change anything.

"That's a good choice," he heard her voice again, and turned his head, looking up to see the kind smile he was getting used to seeing on her face. Her book was down on the table again. Their eyes met. "Burns is one of my favourites."

John nodded. "I'll agree with you, except on it being a good choice. I'm afraid I have it nearly memorised by now, so it takes the surprise effect from it."

She shrugged. "But poetry can always surprise you. It can have a different meaning every day. It depends on how you see the world then. Especially when you can relate to what is written."

He arched his eyebrows and couldn't keep the smile from his face. "Indeed."

They locked eyes for a moment, and he detected the smallest flush on her cheeks; she was the first to look away, fidgeting with her fingers in a somewhat endearing manner. Her voice was enchanting, he decided; she definitely wasn't from London or anywhere nearby. He knew he was supposed to say something now. He watched as she took a sip of her tea. The words left his lips before he was even aware of it.

"I didn't see you at the hospital today," he commented. "I had hoped to find my mother there."

"Oh, she was around this morning, but left to visit a friend in Charing Cross, I believe," she explained. "I think she mentioned you had a meeting."

John let out a laugh. "That's tomorrow. There's only so much I can do these days. I'm not as busy as my mother thinks I am."

She presented him with a compassionate smile. "I'm sure you can find ways to be busy in a city like London."

He let out a laugh. "I should be bothered that my mother gives my schedule to anyone."

She smiled. "No, you shouldn't. She talks a lot about you, that's all. And we're friends."

"I know you are. She has mentioned it," he told her, and she broke his gaze to let out an embarrassed laugh. "I should be thankful. I'm afraid I'm not very present in her life at the moment."

She looked at him again, her eyes impossibly blue. "But you are. Very much so, I assure you."

The moment was broken when someone walked between their tables, and John realised they must be quite a sight, talking to each other with a corridor between them. His book was still open on the table, but its words lay forgotten and he was, for the moment, uninterested. He turned his head when he heard her voice again.

"Perhaps," she started, stopping for a moment when someone else walked between them once more, "I could join you, if it's not a bother. I hope it's not too forward of me to say, but I could use the company."

His response was immediate. "Of course it's not a bother, Miss Smith. I'm sure you can see I can relate to that."

She smiled and before he knew it she was sitting across from him.

"Call me Anna, please," she said, "Miss Smith is awfully formal and people only call me nurse at the hospital. I'm not used to fancy titles."

John grinned. Anna. It was a pretty name. It suited her. "Then, by all means, drop Colonel. Call me John."

"Oh, I didn't mean that."

"But I do. Anna," he added, and she smiled. He read the title of her book. _Murder is Easy_. "Agatha Christie? That's surprising."

"Why surprising?" Anna asked with a frown. "Did you think I only read romances?"

"And poetry," he said, a teasing tone in his voice – one that he did not expect. Anna grinned. "I daresay a good mystery is always excellent reading if it keeps you thinking."

"I quite agree. I love detective novels," she told him. "So different from what I see every day. And I must say I am good at guessing the killer."

They exchanged another smile. The afternoon was going much better than he had initially expected.

* * *

When she saw Colonel Bates at the tea shop, she had thought he looked quite miserable for someone who should be happy to be away from war, but then she supposed men did not share her point of view. From what she had heard from his mother, he was a very serious officer, and she supposed he was already longing to be back at the battles. Somehow, a part of her couldn't refrain from starting a conversation; even though she wasn't usually fond of talking to many officers, there was something different about him. Perhaps it was because of the fact that she, in a way, knew him – from little details and stories Margaret had shared with her.

He was a man of few words, from what she could see, but the shyness had left him a few minutes after she joined his table. It made no sense to her to keep talking from different tables and attracting unwanted glances from other people. He looked a bit more relaxed out of his uniform, wearing a simple brown suit, and no one would have thought he had been fighting in North Africa for the past years like she knew he had. From what his mother said, he was a quiet man, and this proved true as Anna slowly got to know him, even if superficially, while they shared literary opinions over cups of tea that were eventually forgotten and turned cold.

As the hours passed, he seemed comfortable to ask questions too. She did her best to not mention war; it wasn't a subject she was very keen on discussing and she had a feeling he felt the same. She found that it was far too easy to get lost in the crinkles around his eyes and his soft, hesitant, smile. He had been the one to notice how late it was, however, and they decided to leave. He had insisted on paying for her tea, but she refused and paid for herself. When they left, however, he accompanied her, when she knew he lived on the opposite way.

"It's no trouble," he said as he put on his hat. "The least I can do is to make sure you're home safe. London can be a dangerous place."

His tone was teasing, and she smiled, shaking her head. "My mum used to say that. 'Don't forget to look over your shoulder'."

John smiled. "Where are you from? Yorkshire?"

Anna nodded. "A small village. Downton."

He arched his eyebrows. "Quite a long way from here."

Anna frowned. "Do you know Downton?"

He nodded. "The Earl of Grantham is my superior."

"That's a nice coincidence," Anna commented. "Have you ever been?"

"No. But I've heard it's a beautiful place," John said. "You've been living in London for a long time, then?"

"Oh, no," Anna told him quietly. Their steps were slow. There were fewer people on the street now too. "Just for a year or so. I worked at the hospital in Downton before."

"That must have been a big difference."

Anna agreed. "It was. But I could use a change and I didn't want to miss the opportunity. I miss Downton, though. And the clean air."

"I'd have liked to live in the countryside, I'd think," John commented, his eyes distant, imagining the fields she could see so vividly in her mind. "I've been in London my whole life. If I had not joined the army, I have no idea what I could be doing."

"I guess that says a lot about how you feel on your job," she said with a smile. "William is from Downton too. The young man you were talking to, at the hospital, a few days ago."

"Good lad. He told me he'd be released soon. How is he?"

"He's well. Should be back fully next week, or so he tells me. I don't know if that's a good thing," Anna sighed, then blinked before deciding to change the subject. "I'm sorry you couldn't read your book today. I feel like I spoiled your afternoon."

"Please, don't. I think you saved me from boredom. Like I said, I'm not very busy these days," he said softly. "You know, you never did tell me who you think is the murderer in this book you're reading."

"Well, I've only just started," Anna told him, "so maybe Ellsworthy? It's just a guess, of course. I'll try again later on. Why? You know who it is?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," he said with mischievous eyes. She had thought his eyes were dark but, looking now, she could see the green in them. She didn't look away. "Took me by surprise, I must say."

"Oh, please, don't tell me," she begged immediately. "I want to figure it out by myself."

"Not even a hint?" John asked her, his eyes glistening. She let out a laugh and shook her head. "Well, good luck, then. Keep me posted."

She smiled. "Don't worry, I will."

The smile he presented her made her heart skip a beat and she wasn't quite ready for it; it was rather unexpected. They had come to a stop, and she realised they were now in front of the entrance to the nurse's quarters, a building just behind the hospital; she had never realised time went by so fast. She knew far too well the extent of war, and she had never expressed any interest in officers or the war itself; it always brought more misery than solved any problems. Still, when she turned to face John Bates, all these thoughts seemed to be erased from her mind. He wasn't an officer – he was a real man. He didn't just talk of honour and his battles or his rankings.

But she still didn't think she could risk thinking of anything further than friendship. This was not the reason why she came to London.

"Well, this is me. Thanks for the lovely afternoon," she held the book against her chest and looked up at him with a smile. She hadn't realised how tall he was. "I had a nice time."

"Likewise," he agreed. "We should do this again. I'll let you comment wisely on poetry and may slip who is the latest Christie's murderer."

Anna let out a giggle. "Well, I'll be waiting eagerly, then."

"Thanks for the company," his voice was sincere. "I'll stop by tomorrow. An old comrade of mine arrived yesterday. We might see each other."

"Until tomorrow, then," she smiled. "Goodnight, John."

"Goodnight, Anna."

She turned, and when she looked over her shoulder, he was still there, hands in his pockets and glistening eyes.

The sigh she let out when she closed the door behind her was a far too content sigh, one that surprised even herself. She should be careful, or all the reason she had left in her mind would be gone by the time she met John Bates again.

* * *

And indeed, that night, when John picked up his book again, this time in peaceful silence, Burns had never seemed more hopeful.

* * *

¹ _Why Should We Idly Waste Our Prime_ by Robert Burns


End file.
